


Sandcastles

by hellhoundsprey



Series: spn kink bingo 2021 [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Jared Padalecki, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Bottom Alexander Calvert, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, Multi, Omega Alexander Calvert, Omega Jensen Ackles, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Sexism, Soulmates, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Jared Padalecki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Original prompt: Jensen and his mate are both Omegas. However, society doesn’t see their relationship as a valid one as there is no Beta or Alpha to bind the union in the law’s eyes. This means they have no protection under pack law. As a result, both Jensen and OMC live on the outskirts of pack society and try to live as off the grid as possible while still receiving protection from their city pack. They have been able to live this way because no Alpha has challenged their union and to most pack members, it’s ‘out of sight out of mind’ to them. Jensen and his mate both end up going into heat regularly as their bodies haven’t been claimed or mated. They hide away during certain times of the month from Alphas who pick up their scent and want to claim them as Alphas are quite aggressive during an Omega’s heat.2021 kink bingo square 20: rough sex
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Alexander Calvert, Jensen Ackles/Alexander Calvert/Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: spn kink bingo 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122431
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2021





	Sandcastles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isoughtyouout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isoughtyouout/gifts).



> This story is more dubcon than noncon, really, but I precautionary tagged **"rape"** just to be sure since **some scenes are particularly graphic**.

Alex is already gone by the time Jensen makes it out of bed. Still early enough that the birdsongs are deafening. Jensen slams the window shut before he struggles downstairs.

He forgoes the leftover coffee to set up a pot of tea instead. The old stove chortles alive and while he waits for the water to boil, Jensen leans against the kitchen counter. Tight breath. Looks warm out. He’s wiped what feels like a bucketful of sweat off his face by the time he can carry the pot over to their table.

Tea, and—breathing. The world swims. Jensen kneads his nose, his eyes. The garden requires tending. Jensen will see to it. He’s got all day.

Summer solstice gets him bad, each year. Will get a hold of Alex as well, but Jensen’s body has long decided it wants to be a little early to everything. Past couple of days had been rough already. Hopefully, the peak’s done for by tonight.

Jensen doesn’t bother with pants. Mid-eighties outside and high-end nineties inside him; he’ll slick right through the linen within minutes, anyway. Just boots and, in an afterthought, a bottle of water, together with two of the baskets. He rattles the door until he realizes Alex must have locked him in, and that he did it properly. Down with the baskets. Jensen’s sighs aren’t addressed at his mate.

The early noon heat meets him like a wall. He keeps walking. The stream, the bridge. Sun and growing grass, growing weeds. Mulch under his soles and under his knees, next. That upcoming shower might make it to the highlight of today.

The hum of his own voice and the nearby water keep Jensen company. Drinking songs, children’s songs; anything. A handful of carrots finds its way into one of the baskets and Jensen reaches behind himself to rub at his sore lower back with his clean hand as not to ruin the light linen tunic. He massages himself and closes his eyes. Sweat, sun, earth. Gods, he’s soaked.

It breezes by him, then. A whisper of a scent.

Enough to make him reel, nearly topple over—a gulp for air and, yeah, _oh_ —he stands, barely. His knees defy him.

He sees them, then. Up the stream, east.

Jensen makes it across the bridge before he’s tackled to the ground.

He sobs, flails. Rips skin with his nails before his wrists get caught, stretched away; a knee into the back of his knee and he’s pinned and it’s already over, already done, but Jensen roars nevertheless, bone-shattering and unwilling.

“I’ll kill you,” he snarls (spit and ground, dandelions). “I’ll fucking KILL you, asshole!”

“Fuck,” and it’s a guy, sounds like one. “ _Fuck_ , don’t make me hurt you— _don’t_.”

They grab Jensen’s scruff and _wring_ , and Jensen nearly loses consciousness with it.

Face-down in the dirt and he can’t even breathe right his body is so loose, so boneless—his wrists are no longer held but he can’t move his arms, not with the steady grip in the back of his neck but he manages a weak protest, a whimper, _something_ , when his tunic gets wrestled high, when the Alpha on his back works their belt open, their pants.

A bolt of panic but the blunt, insane pressure rolls right into what is just smooth and consuming and deep and hot, _searing_ , and Jensen’s neck is let go and his wrists are held anew and he presses, “ _No_ ,” while they’re already molding themselves to his back, already knocked him full with all of it, and he’s stuck. Buried and drowned and a snarl in his ear, morning-stale breath that skates along the sweat pouring down his temple, and Jensen tries to blink but not even that—not even _that_.

That first thrust nearly rips him in two. Nearly breaks him, somewhere deep—rucks him through the dirt and he scrambles, gasps—gets held down, firm, firmer; a growl, a threat.

Again, “Don’t,” and they slap into him again, quicker, and Jensen howls with what it does to him, with how _deep_ they—Gods, how? _How_?

Tear-heavy, behind his teeth, “ _I’ll kill you_ ,” and a weary thing, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, from behind, above.

They knot nearly immediately, lock themselves up inside Jensen’s cunt. Jensen’s heat sings for it, begs for it—it doesn’t hurt. Not exactly.

He snarls nevertheless. Attempts to get his mouth on one of those forearms, dig his teeth in, but, no. Slack, head to toe, tied—the Alpha rocks minutely, unsteady, their arms wound tight around Jensen’s shoulders, his arms. Gasps for air like they’re the one in pain.

A strangled, off, “Oh, _Gods_.”

Ache. An ocean of it, pouring right over Jensen through the inside of his nose, every pore. Humiliation and horror and he heaves with it, with—this stranger’s scent. The whirlwind of it, new and foreign and like a punch to the gut, to the teeth.

Jensen bucks and the guy’s caught knot throbs dangerously, too fat to even be able to slip out on accident, but, still—

“Get off, get—OFF OF ME! Bastard!”

His teeth do find some meat to bury in, but the Alpha barely even flinches. Just curls their arms tighter and Jensen has to let go again because he simply cannot _breathe_ with the pressure. A pained gulp and that mouth skims along Jensen’s hairline, his neck, and Jensen’s jaw clenches for the pull of his insides, the unwanted tremble of it.

“I’ll gut you,” he snarls; gets a growl, a shove. Gets his face smushed into the dirt and his hair snuffled, his ear. “I’ll gut you like a fucking _pig_ , asshole—bleed you like, like a—fuck—!” Weaker, “Stop,” under the again-growing moves, the too-wide stretch of the knot pulling him along, knocking itself deep. “Stop, I, I can’t, you—you _can’t_ ,” and somewhere between the stranger closing their mouth and teeth over his scruff and them huffing with displeasure, Jensen’s body bows with his orgasm, and it takes what little ground he had left right from underneath his feet.

Heat-heavy, slick. Like a breaking of fever and Heaven and it curls through him like there’s nothing else, never was, and it doesn’t let go of him again. Not until his next, too-deep breath.

Gravel and grass and he bucks, frail, spent, but his knees barely even uproot the weeds they’re scraping across. A coo, a gentle—coax, above him, and he whines in response, shudders from within, a steady milking cramp. The tie went down just enough for them to pump their hips and Jensen’s arms are free to bend, reach up and cradle his own face, dirt and sweat and he sobs; lets them.

Wet, “Don’t,” and, “don’t fucking stop.”

He loses time, loses count. Of how often they tie, how often he comes. How often the guy comes, too—can’t exactly feel it, or tell, until he can. Until he understands: gasp, shudder, done. Quiet. It all feels strangely—quiet.

A stir, liquid. Locked muscles frame him, hover—keep weight off him, Jensen realizes. For a first time, he peers up. Sun and dirt and—hair, mostly. Long-ish. A beard. Pinched-shut eyes.

A thin parody of Jensen’s voice utters, “You’re bleeding,” and the Alpha’s brow quivers, and that nose twitches. Clench of jaw; mid-orgasm. A toss of head when Jensen reaches up and in, smears his thumb through the ooze on that brow, that temple.

“Don’t.”

Jensen feels air on his teeth. “Almost got your eye.”

Another one of that aching, deep sighs, and the guy drops all his weight. Jensen’s humor flattens. Gets his arms scooped up underneath him, the too-warm cradle of those arms.

Another tone—pleased.

“You’re purring like I’m not gonna spill your guts all over my yard, y’know.”

A weak laugh. The Alpha or—himself. Both of them?

It’s all blurry, somehow.

“How’s it still hard?” and a stir as if on command, for proof. Jensen groans. Gets rutted against again, even if only a tease. A laughable crumb of earlier (minutes ago). “Fuck, you are—this is…!”

Soft, “Yeah,” and Jensen doesn’t want to think words.

Just—melts, and. It’s good. Feels good.

Soaked and textured and just right. Like a bandage to an ailment, and of course he _knew_. Heard the stories and knows the biology behind it, but he’d never… Never needed or wanted or…

“Want me to do it again?” coarse like they’ve been sleeping. Like all of this is just a dream.

“Uh-huh,” mutters Jensen, grunting, groaning, and his brain slowly slops back online while he gathers his elbows underneath his shoulders, curls his ass out for it. Like a whore, he thinks, but that morsel of shame isn’t enough to make him falter, not a bit.

Punched-out breath, tandem. One hand that slips underneath him, under his tunic to find and cup a breast, squeeze it, and he moans for that, too, tips his head aside to get his throat nuzzled, his ear nipped.

All throat, “Fuck,” and that hand slips north, grabs at said throat; learns the width of it. Makes him swallow, thumb tucked over Jensen’s pulse.

Low, destroyed, “You’re so fucking hot inside,” and maybe Jensen tells him _thanks_ , or he doesn’t. Mushed, small. Reduced to that—beat, deep inside and up, searching. Carving him out, pounding him soft. Full smacks with how soaked he is, _they_ are; heat-slick, come. Frothing and sticky and oozing down Jensen’s taint, the back of his thighs. He tips down to one shoulder so he can reach between his legs, palm his balls, his cock. Soft, numb with—well, his heat. Faint throb, though, so maybe, finally fading. Jensen discards only to reach further to feel where he’s getting fucked open, the weight of—holy shit.

A snarl; he squeezes nonetheless, gasps.

Utters, “Lords,” and gets shoved into cruelly, lets go of their balls.

He hasn’t even seen it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

Another tie. Jensen comes a minute in. Not much in him anymore but a squirm, a weak protest—that soothing mouth against the back of his ear, his scent gland. The cradle of that palm below his chin, along his jaw. Searching, petting.

A wonderous, “Rough.”

“Well. Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you guys can grow beards,” and Jensen wants to reprimand but his scent flinches his attention elsewhere, up the stream. The Alpha balks at his reaction, still unaware, lagging with the pleasure-fog of their tie.

Jensen utters, “Shit,” and barks, loud: “Alex?!”

Nothing, and the Alpha utters, “What…?”

“I’m okay, Alex, don’t freak out! Fuck, shit, get—get _off_ me,” and the Alpha _does_ let up but the tie doesn’t budge, and Jensen feels a new wave of sweat, of nausea—nearly forgotten and God what time is it, how long did they— “Alex, I’m okay, I _swear_ —!”

and the Omega sprints into view, then.

Only a bunch of yards, out of the thicket of the forest half-swallowing their cabin and a screeching stop when the view confirms what the scent must have been given away at least a mile ago and Jensen is—mortified, finally. Caught, dirty, and he has the sudden presence to yank his tunic down somehow and he stammers,

“It’s, I,”

but Alex just stares, no speaking, no—nothing.

Jensen’s mate turns on his heels and dashes right back into the woods.

“WAIT!”

Alex doesn’t.

~

Jensen keeps his eyes from rolling just because part of him _does_ justify the Alpha’s wariness. “Dude,” he says. “I told you, I won’t.”

The Alpha keeps scowling, keeps his distance. Hasn’t left yet, though, and Jensen has a feeling he won’t. Not anytime soon with night lurking around the next couple of hours, with miles and miles of nothing around them. Jensen peeks out the window. Still no sign of Alex.

“You good?” A nod, even though those paws don’t stop clutching that again-empty bowl. Jensen frowns. “You can have more if you want.”

Meek, “No, I’m good,” and Jensen leaves the window be to sit back down at the table, sip from his tea. The Alpha has yet to touch his share of it.

That awkward silence again. And again it’s the Alpha who speaks up, who can’t bear it: “I’m so, so sorry,”

and again Jensen has to order, “Stop it,” and that mouth opens for another try but there’s a flinch instead, and suddenly the Alpha stands, and Jensen hasn’t finished blurting his, “What?” by the time the door blows open.

Alex, bow and arrow drawn and pointed and Jensen leaps from the chair and in front of the man who’s got his arms up, his back against the wall; and he shouts,

“Fuck, STOP!”

but Alex stays firm. So does his bow.

Softer, pleading, “Babe, it’s okay—”

“Leave.”

“Alex—”

“Fucking leave before I shoot you in your fucking _head_ , bastard.”

“ _Alex_ ,” and finally a flicker of those eyes, a quick back and forth between Jensen and the Alpha.

A new twinge to that mouth when Jensen, standing in front of the offender, _shielding_ him, registers.

Those arms drop but that arrow remains ready on that finger while the Omega barks, “Fuck, what the FUCK!” and he looks frightened, and exhausted, and Jensen is met with the entirety of the dread he caused. “Jensen, what the FUCK!?”

Raised hands and, “Calm down,” and Alex allows himself to be walked up to, to be pulled into a short hug before he fights free again, steps backwards to get some air between Jensen and himself.

Jensen looks at him, devastated.

“You can’t be serious.” Betrayal, confusion—after everything, and yes, Jensen doesn’t understand it yet either, but— “You protect him? Like a good little bitch?”

The open-handed slap to Alex’s face shocks Jensen himself the most.

Alex blinks, doesn’t even stagger. “What, you, you—what the fuck are you doing? What is going ON?”

“Calm the fuck down and put that fucking thing down, Alexander, or I swear to God—”

Bow and arrow clatter to the floor with enough force to make them bounce, wood on wood.

Jensen balks. “—thank you.”

He then proceeds to throw himself in front of Alex, who lunges at the Alpha with his bare fists.

“STOP! Are you CRAZY?!”

The Omega roars when he realizes Jensen won’t let him through. He bares his teeth and spits, and Jensen has no clue if he hit his mark. The Alpha behind him doesn’t step up, doesn’t step in.

Growled, “Alex,” and when that doesn’t help, Jensen whacks that foot off the floor and sends both of them crashing down. His mate flounders—on his back and pinned so easily by Jensen’s weight, Jensen’s skill, and everything in Jensen hates it, hates the panic in those eyes and the treachery of what is happening, but he has to.

Endless-again, “ _Alex_ ,” and it takes more pressure and eventually one hand around that throat to wash all resistance away, even if only momentarily.

It replaces itself with dread. With confusion.

Jensen’s mate’s breath comes rattled, choked-off. Distorted mouth and those hands cling at Jensen’s wrist and a garbled, “ _Jen_ ,” and Jensen doesn’t know how he doesn’t tear up right along.

~

The bed wasn’t this uncomfortable this morning. Or ever.

Distant too-close, “I’m sorry,” and Jensen can’t even reply. Can’t acknowledge.

Listens for his mate, rummaging around downstairs. Outside. Axe, firewood.

“I’ll be gone by dawn, promise. I don’t—I won’t.” (Like Jensen can’t scent the pump of that blood, the strain of that rut. Like anything about any of this was a choice to begin with.) “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, then.”

That helps. Quiet, finally.

Alex keeps chopping, outside.

After what feels like no time at all: “You should, I mean—you can go talk to him, if you... I can sleep downstairs or outside, I told you—”

“Yeah, and he told _you_ what to do, man,” and Jensen hisses that over his shoulder, grants the giant man-child behind him a glare. “Nobody asked for your opinion. Nobody.”

The guy falters and shrinks. Curls lower over his pulled-up knees, cocooned in the blanket he was given (borrowed). Jensen’s insides feel like they’re about to crawl out of him and over to the Alpha, right to where that certain smell is heaviest—where they know they’re wanted, _craved_ , right now. Despite the puppy eyes. Despite the hunched shoulders.

Despite all the nice words and good intentions.

Stupid, unprompted: “I still can’t believe you guys just live—out here.” Jensen groans, rolls over again. “In the middle of—what if something _happens_?”

“You mean if someone comes crashing in to rape the living daylights out of us?”

Guilty eyes.

“Yeah. No, we’re fine. _Were_ fine,” he corrects. Frowns into the bed, curled-in. “We’re okay. Holding up, y’know. Better than…” He doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to.

Jared—and that name had been given up shyly, six feet whatever Alpha and nothing but a pup—mumbles bullshit about _sorry_ and _I know it’s tough, must be so tough for y’all_ like he even cares. Like if he’s just nice and tame enough, Jensen’s gonna let him mount him again. All he’s after. All they’re ever after.

Silence once more when Jensen barks, “I told you to shut your fucking mouth.” It sticks, this time. Shy fumbling with the blanket; more of that once Jared lies down, finally.

Jensen breathes, closes his eyes. Clenches his jaw—wood, tumbling, axe, drop, more wood. Alex’s breath, somewhere. Unreachable.

Blue-blue eyes and _Jen_ and _like that? You like it?_

The Alpha startles only a little. No wonder; not a surprise, after all. Not really.

Doesn’t speak when Jensen unwraps him, climbs him, yanks those damned pants just low enough. Only ever puts his hands on him when Jensen’s sank down halfway already and falters, groans with the stretch—not as soaking wet as this morning whereas the Alpha is just as swollen, maybe even worse. Those hands, big and dry and warm and curling, carefully. Helping.

Shuffle of feet; of legs, rearranging.

Jensen warns, tight: “Shut up.”

The Alpha does.

Lets Jensen take, lets him work it out. Huffed displeasure. Jensen groans, overstuffed despite still not hitting rock bottom. The promise of that almost-popping knot skirts just shy of his asshole while the head already digs up high against his cervix, curves him out inside. Pleasure-pain of that pressure, that weight in him. The instinctive clench of his pussy, daring for more.

Jensen grumbles. “Fuck,” and, “ _How_?” and Jared sighs his hum, moves with him. More holding on than holding down and Jensen huffs, tilts. Hands behind him, in front of him—none is more comfortable than the other. The bittersweet frustration of him not enjoying himself.

The Alpha picks up his head so he can kiss Jensen’s collarbone, can press a few up along his throat, his jaw. Jensen’s cunt draws up in warning, in need. Jensen chews his own lip, wills himself open.

Stumbling, “ _Oh_ ,” when he finally seats himself. For the skirt of a finger up his spine while that other hand curls itself over the back of his neck, cups him sweet. He shudders, deep. Can’t move. Good bleeds into painful bleeds into good. “Oh, fuck, don’t move… Don’t move, don’t move…!”

A noncommittal coo. Bitter-thick breath, the tang of Alpha-spit. Jensen swallows around the moan Jared sucks out of him with his lips sealed over his scent gland.

He fights to push himself back down after rising three inches high. Jared welcomes him with a hitch of his hips that knocks Jensen’s mouth right open, sends him quivering neck-down.

Slurred, “Fuck, don’t,” but Jensen allows his mouth to be licked into. Doesn’t keep demanding the Alpha to lay still. Both his body and Jared’s scent tug at him to let his guard down, let it go. He forgets about why exactly he doesn’t want that to happen somewhere between Jared pulling him spread with both hands and them rolling over.

Once on top, the Alpha consumes him. Doesn’t let up but he’s careful, at first, until he’s made Jensen moan often enough to verify he’s not damaging him. So different from Alex, when they do this—an angry slap of their bodies, like it’s still not enough. Not soft or controlled. Not loving or tender, just—heat. Hunger and a chase and no reservation.

Spit-wet, “Bite me,” and Jensen does—Jared’s neck, shoulder; anything—earns a groan, a tense deep in the Alpha’s back, and if he wasn’t biting, he would be so so loud. Shameful and loud enough for Alex to hear it all the way to the back of the house, and if the Alpha wasn’t in him right now, it would be Alex instead. Jensen’s nails rip Jared’s skin again but there’s no pause, no nothing.

Sobbed, “I’m coming,” but not even that stunts the blind effort. Jensen holds on, lets it wash over him, knock him out and back into reality. The hungry gulps of his own breath, the Alpha’s gritted teeth; focused.

“Fucking log cabin in the fucking woods but you still reek of those fucking anti-kiddo pills—!”

Jensen laughs for that. Ignores the angry growl to the words; their not-so-unspoken claim. Sobers slightly for those paws clutching his skull, holding him firm. Jensen hiccups through the tears of his exhaustion, his bliss. The Alpha on top of him is nothing but a flurry of sweat, of strands of long, brown hair. Jensen’s eyes are open and watching, and the moon lights the otherwise night-black bedroom through that single triangle window they embedded into the west dormer.

A long, desperate inhale through that nose. Flaring nostrils, and—oh.

Jared blinks. Trembles.

Asks, “You feel that?”

Jensen nods.

The Alpha dips low until he can bury his face against Jensen’s neck. Can scoop him up in his arms again like Jensen’s a child. Like Jared’s not bleeding because of him.

The house sleeps. The wind in the trees, the pitter-patter of the stream. Just—Alex, still awake, still outside. Pacing. A stray whack, here and there.

Muffled yet clear: “Who knows you’re out here?”

Jensen scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Who?” The Alpha untangles himself just enough to be able to get up on one elbow so he can look Jensen in the eye. “You’ll tell me.”

Jensen grimaces. The shove to Jared’s chest doesn’t get him far. Still tied, still heated, the moment cools cruelly.

“We are none of your fucking business.”

“You are _all_ of my business, now. Omega,” and Jared is still too dazed to block the elbow knocking into his brow bone; but he grabs Jensen’s arm, after, firm enough to hurt. Shoves his knees higher so Jensen is folded in on himself and huffs, easily rendered out of breath. Jared corrects, “Jensen, please,” and this time, Jensen knows exactly where that spit hits the guy.

Jensen’s breath squeezes out of him as Jared leans more weight onto Jensen’s chest, the tangle of their arms. He keeps glaring.

Jared reciprocates.

“You must have contacts for the electricity. For when you purchased the land.”

Jensen chortles as far as his compressed chest will allow it.

Jared’s eyes narrow. “The pills. The clothes.”

“Breaking my ribs won’t get you anything.”

The pressure eases enough for Jensen to connect a leg-lock.

Jared’s head slams to the floor, hard, as Jensen throws them over. Back on top, he grins with bared teeth. The Alpha fists into Jensen’s hair, yanks Jensen’s head back. Jensen laughs.

“I don’t care. I don’t fucking care who you think you are,” and he gets a growl for that, another jostle to his head. He laughs again, spits again.

Jared throws them over so hard Jensen’s teeth collide dangerously; a zing of agony in the back of his head where it met the bare wooden floor and where Jared’s knot is still tying them, yanks on him. He spits again—thick, iron-tainted. Fuck, his tongue.

Jared closes one hand around Jensen’s throat and leans down on it.

Jensen chokes. Rakes all ten nails across Jared’s forearm, stirs his legs up to get another grip in, but nothing. Gritted teeth and, “Fuck you, _bitch_ ,” but Jared remains firm, remains cold above him—solid, unmoved. All Alpha force, no escape. Jensen grunts, writhes. Nothing. He can’t breathe.

Jared moves—effortlessly. Like Jensen is made of paper and silk and he has to be careful not to crush him.

Leans down and—skirts his lips along Jensen’s cheek, his jaw. Tip of nose against Jensen’s, below his eye, into his hair.

Against Jensen’s ear: “Tie’s about to go down. So I’ll fuck you again. And again, after that. And you will _let_ me.”

A shove of Jared’s hips sends Jensen’s body cramping. His stomach rolls and his skull heats and there is no ounce of breath left in him to make a sound. His face scrunches up. The scent of Jared’s blood filters through his nose but doesn’t make it down while the taste of his own keeps blooming in his mouth.

“Any objections? No?”

Jared releases him, finally—just to slap their bodies together, nearly pulls out despite the tie. Jensen’s lungs double over with his gulps for air, the muted scream. Jared crashes down on him, pins him, holds him while he fucks into him rough and quick, knot be damned. Jensen sobs against a shoulder; isn’t let up.

If this wasn’t his heat, if he wasn’t— He can’t think. Can’t imagine.

His legs lock behind Jared’s lower back. All he can do.

Jared’s still-there shirt soaks fast, caught between them as it is. Jared only pushes up so Jensen can pluck it off him for good, can toss it—somewhere. Doesn’t matter. Just—skin. Skin and—everything.

Jensen is aware that he is still sobbing, but it’s not for any pain anymore.

Jared growls in encouragement like he knows.

The next orgasm and tie help washing the sourness away, leave Jensen exhausted and sore. Jared rolls them over yet again. His hands travel up and down Jensen’s drenched back, the tuck of his legs. Gentle shushing. Jensen’s throat still feels crushed.

Jared’s chest hair is soft against his face. Another gush of come pumps into him and he groans.

“You’re getting your goddamn blood all over our goddamn bed.”

Somewhere, Jared murmurs, “Sorry.”

~

Alex is so tense that Jensen wonders if bringing Jared downstairs right away would have made any difference at all.

“Listen, can we talk?” but Alex is already up and out the door. Jensen rushes to follow. Lords, his _legs_.

Alex doesn’t stop for the plea to wait, but he does slow down. Almost by the bridge, boots on but no bow, no backpack, nothing, and until he finally, finally comes to a halt, Jensen is terrified he might run off nevertheless. That he’d be forced to.

“Alex—”

“I don’t want him here,” and Jensen softens with the ache.

Tosses his arms towards the house, towards Alex—dreads, “Me neither, man, but listen,” and Alex’s face flinches and he’s half-turned towards the woods, still eager to slip out of reach, out of sight. That same cocktail of terror-heartbreak-shock but it’s grown moldy overnight. “Listen, let’s talk, okay? Don’t run, I’m fucking begging you here,” and Alex’s eyes jump, drink him in—daylight, shirt and pants. Barefoot. A step forward, softer yet again: “Alex, please.”

Jensen’s mate forces himself to look away, down. His fists are clenched and his chest ebbs steady with too-fast breath.

Closed mouth. Flared nostrils.

“Make him leave.”

“Babe—”

“He got what he wanted. Make him _leave_.”

Jensen tries, “It’s not that easy,” but Alex interrupts,

“You said he got LOST! We’re not a fucking bed and breakfast, Jensen!”

“He doesn’t even have a _compass_ ; he’s never gonna make it back to the city by himself—”

“Good!”

“Gods, fucking— _wait_ ,” because Alex is starting to pace again, to throw nervous glances to the house, the bridge. “Look, I—I’m not happy about any of this either. I want him gone just as bad as you.”

“Oh, _do_ you?” and there’s so much spite, so much fury in there that Jensen bellows,

“You think I WANTED him to throw me into the fucking DIRT, Alex?!”

and that helps, for a second.

Makes Alex reel both outside and inside, dips his mouth open with devastation, with the reminder and his imagination. The scent trail they’ve left, that Jensen still carries. A clear picture.

When Alex doesn’t talk back, Jensen steps closer. Begs, “Don’t leave me,” and another step, and another. Alex doesn’t run, and he doesn’t push Jensen away. That old shirt they share back and forth; that rugged pair of jeans.

After all those hours with Jared, having his mate back in his arms is a relief beyond everything Jensen’s known. Tender and familiar despite the veil of disgust, of pain; years and years of Jensen’s imprint and their home and their life and he squeezes him, hard, until even someone as stubborn as Alex has no other choice but to give in and shift, hug him back.

Soft at first, like he’s still unwilling to touch Jensen. Firmer, soon. Alex clings before he pushes them apart.

Alex utters, “He hurt you,” and Jensen shushes him, cups Alex’s cheek. Alex allows himself to be kissed. Loaded with Jared’s pheromones though, the taste is off—Jensen balks. He cradles Alex close instead to pet through his hair.

“It’s gonna be okay,” utters Jensen with his eyes pointed nowhere. “I promise.”

~

Jared greets them with, “Hey,” and amid a sorry attempt to get the stove going. He gladly makes space for Jensen to take over and wrings his too-big hands. Jensen warns him not to meddle with shit he has no clue of, but there is no back-talk, and Jensen knows why.

Alex, still by the door, does his best not to fidget. Not to display his fear.

Jensen knows of the knife in that boot but he doesn’t know if it would make a difference.

“You’re Alex, right?”

Immediate, “Right,” but Jensen hears his Omega mate moving further into the room, still has his back turned. Only another moment before the stove finally stumbles alive, trustful as ever, and he can get back up.

He hears, “I’m Jared,” and turns just in time to step in the way of the timid shuffle of Jared’s feet towards the other Omega in the room. If there is a hint of shame somewhere in Jared, Jensen can’t seem to find it. “I’m sorry for—well, I’m just. I’m just sorry, really.”

Alex murmurs a bitter, “Sure,” and Jensen side-eyes him, picks up that distant flare of involuntary heat. Simple chemistry, really, with an Alpha in the room and Alex’s biology working just as well as Jensen’s.

Jensen gives Jared a warning glare.

“Pretty stupid. To go on a hike without any equipment.”

Jensen urges, “Alex,” but Jared laughs, embarrassed.

“You’re, uh, you’re right about that.”

“You’re lucky he had his heat going. You’d be stumbling about these woods like a headless chicken, still.”

Again, “Yes,” meek and sweet and it makes Jensen angry after last night. After the glimpse of what Jared is capable of. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I had no clue anybody was even living all the way out here. Pretty far off the city limits,” and Jensen’s shoulder bumps into Jared’s chest the Alpha pushes on so thoughtlessly. He gives Jensen a first, confused look then. Like he’s nearly forgotten Jensen is even in the room.

Jensen advises, “Cool it, big guy.”

Jared balks, smiles. “I, I wasn’t—”

“Sure you weren’t.”

Jensen shoulders into him, albeit gently. Enough to make Jared comply though, to give Jensen space. Alex is still where he was. Overwhelmed with what is happening with his body, his hormones, he is glued to his spot.

All three of them can scent what it does to Jared, too.

Jensen interrupts with, “Breakfast? Is anyone else starving or what,” and begins digging for cutlery, for pots and pans. “Sweetheart, you looked after the chickens yet?” and Alex mutters something like _no_ , and he leaves rather staggeringly when Jensen asks him to go do that, then.

Jared _oompfs_ with the weight of Jensen’s reprimanding glare, the stack of plates he gets handed.

“Don’t even _think_ about it. He’s off-limits, you hear? You touch him, I’ll feed this to our hens,” and a half-mean dig of the tip of a butter knife to the already-thickened root of Jared’s dick, and Jared’s paled nod feels at least _slightly_ persuaded.

Like yesterday hasn’t even happened. Like they didn’t spend the majority of last night…! Like it’s not enough. Never will be.

Jensen chews bread, dips it into yolk. Peace at the table. Tea, water for Jared. Jensen’s eyes slip to the deep carvings on Jared’s forearms. His thoughts linger around their medical supplies, around Alex’s heat.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” he not-teases; but Jared finally lets him pull his shirt off him after breakfast while Alex clears the table, lets Jensen tend to the wounds he’s caused himself. The meal left everyone replenished and Jensen fears his heat won’t let him go just yet, not with Jared around.

Jared keeps still and quiet with his back bared to Jensen’s hands, hunched over on his chair. Jensen is aware of Alex, staring, just as he is aware of the again-full throb of Jared’s cock, tucked away in his by now ragged pants. A wash seems inevitable. Jensen doubts they have any spares that would fit the Alpha.

Salve, bare fingers. The bulk of Jared’s muscles, the deep tan of his skin. Angry-red with inflammation where Jensen clawed it open, thanks to all the sweat. The chafe and stress from the sheets.

“You should take a shower before it gets worse. We have one outside.”

Jared doesn’t complain.

Jensen asks for Alex to go grab a towel, a washcloth. His own heat warms him minute by minute and maybe he should just join Jared in the shower, give in. After all, the damage is already done. He sends Jared on his way, though, after picking up Alex’s scent from up close.

As soon as Jared is out the door, out of hearing range, Jensen crowds his mate against the kitchen counter.

His hand dips into the back of Alex’s pants.

Two fingers, easy.

Alex’s face is twisted, pinked-up. He sighs, clutched up tight—clings to Jensen’s shirt, one hand behind himself for stability.

Jensen spells out, “It’s bad, huh,” and Alex nods, groans for the pump of Jensen’s fingers. “Me too.”

“Can you sleep with me? Tonight?” A hitch; Alex’s leg hikes, tries to curl around Jensen’s ass. “He can—fuck, he can sleep with the chickens, for all I care…”

Jensen chuckles, rubs his cheek against Alex’s scent gland, his hair. “I fear he’s gonna break the door down.”

Alex lets himself be talked into submission, into _soon, I promise_. Jensen doesn’t want to make him clean up their mess upstairs but the other option is the garden, where Jared is, so it’s not a choice. The blood might be a bitch to get out but the Alpha stink is the real problem. The bedding might have to be tossed; the futon. Not dramatic, they can afford it. Not fun, but doable.

All by himself, waiting, Jensen can barely take it. The swirl of his heat, his emotions, all of it. He drags himself outside, into the sun. The promising splatter of water over by the greenhouse calls him. Jared’s pants are flung over the fence.

They hadn’t stripped for real until last night, when it had already been dark. Jared’s back is turned as he rinses his hair, works around his wounds. His muscles ripple with the movement, the cold water from above. Long, long legs. The dark shadow of his pubes, the heat of his cock.

Jensen hasn’t realized how close he’d already come by the time Jared mumbles, “Join me?” and he doesn’t exactly freeze but he doesn’t move on, either. Limbo, torn. Jensen’s slick pearls down the inside of his thigh.

Jensen can’t look away—Jared’s hand, so familiar by now, and how it wraps easy around the fat pole of his cock, jerks it slow. A tease, a call.

Tender, knowing: “You want it again, don’t you?”

Jensen can’t reply. Doesn’t need to.

“You don’t have to wait anymore. I’m right here.”

Jared swivels his clutched palm over the head before he lets it go entirely. A clear string of precome connects his hand and cock until it doesn’t. Jensen swallows against the flood of saliva; wants to take a step back when Jared walks towards him, practically beckons him with the swing of his cock.

“If I have my way, you’ll never have to wait again.”

Jensen scoffs; weak. He utters something dumb, useless. He has yet to move.

“I can see how hungry you are for it, Jensen,” and that’s close enough for Jensen to taste the Alpha’s breath, feel it on his face. Jared is cold and wet when he steps up to him, chest to chest, but all Jensen is aware of is the heat underneath, the fire under Jared’s skin, ripe and ready for Jensen to take. To claim, again. Share.

“I’m—really not,” he croaks, despite Jared’s hand worming into the back of his pants, despite having his hand placed on the heated throb of Jared’s cock and wrapping around it right away, pumping it slow, unpracticed. Alex and he are so much smaller, not anywhere as…

“All I want to do is feed you full.”

Jared’s hair drips all over him, soaks his shirt where they are pressed together, where his nipples stiffen hard enough to hurt. Jared rubs the row of four fingers up and down his crack before he slips three of them inside, gets his other hand on Jensen’s hips to keep him steady, wedge them in as deep as he wants. Not enough.

“What will it be, huh, beautiful? You gonna run?”

Jensen trembles through his sigh. Allows himself to be scent-marked (again), to be breached by that fourth finger as well. A moan when they all curl just right, dig into him good. He doesn’t stop Jared from undoing his pants. They drop to pool around Jensen’s bare feet, in the grass. His arm still works, still pumps Jared’s cock.

“No. No, you’re not running,” hums Jared, and withdraws his hand to grab Jensen instead, pick him off the ground instead.

Jensen finds himself with his back against the shed, a shock of cold water from above.

He’d scramble if he had the capacity, the strength—but Jared’s already sunk into him to the hilt, already pistons into him full and wet like they belong like this, like he has any right. Jensen sobs, soaked, and holds on. Clings with arms and legs, but it doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. Jared’s got him.

“Fuck, let me see. Let me see you, beautiful,” and Jensen sobs again when wood scrapes against his now-bare back, when Jared flings his shirt off and into the nearby dirt. How he flares hot, suddenly exposed, aware of how his chest must be rippling under the cruel slaps of Jared’s body against his own—how Jared must be _staring_.

Jared curls him deeper. Tries to hold Jensen’s legs up and away to see where he’s driving inside of, but it doesn’t satisfy, and Jensen nearly slips. Jared snarls and handles him, twists him until Jensen’s toes are back on the stone tiles below and his face and hands press against the shed and he moans for the angle, the strain.

“So open for me,” and it’s endearing and nasty and Jensen gulps under the water stream from above, the bite of the cold all over his back and the contrast of Jared’s searing hands, the travel of them all over his bare body. How they squeeze and learn and tug and bruise, and Jensen moans; gets his junk gathered in only one of Jared’s hands while Jared pushes a deeper arch into his back with the other, truly curls him open for his viewing pleasure. Jensen’s mate should be the only one to see him like this, make him _feel_ like this. Alex, God—Jensen hopes he’s not watching from one of the windows. Hopes he’s not loud enough to be heard all the way to the house.

The swell to Jared’s knot comes surprisingly and fast. Slipping on the tiles, barely any contact to the ground, Jensen garbles, “Y-you can’t,” but when Jared pulls out way too early, when that constant friction in him is just— _gone_ , he. He nearly pushes back on it. Nearly demands it _back_.

“On your knees. In the grass.”

Jensen stumbles; obeys. Looks back just to find Jared wringing his fist behind his fully-popped knot, huge and insane and that had been _in_ him, and he wants it in him _again_ , _right now_ ; and Jared sinks into the grass with him, behind him. His cock lurches with every full gush of come, taps Jensen’s ass cheek, spills all over him. It takes a few tries before Jared’s slipped it back in. The knot won’t fit, not fully blown as it is.

Jensen whimpers as he humps back on it nevertheless. Gets purred at; gets Jared’s arm hooked under his knee and his leg hiked up while Jared’s other arm locks around his throat to pin him. Slurped bites to the side of his neck, his face—Jensen can’t breathe right. Is all liquid, all fever, and it feels like forever until Jared rolls them over, gets him under himself so he can rut into him right. Without the successful tie, his knot deflates fast, but it’s still swollen by the time he forces it up Jensen’s ass. Instead of complaining, Jensen’s body welcomes him right in. Sucks on it desperately, hungrily, and Jensen whimpers in humiliation, for Jared’s knowing, smug chuckle.

“Don’t you worry. Next one’s all yours.”

Jared kisses him, during. Teeth and not pleasant; more chewing than anything else. He bites Jensen as they tie but Jensen’s shuddering through a series of orgasms that gladfully don’t let him think of anything at all.

When it’s all over, he huffs. Stirs. Jared’s breath moves him softly against Jensen’s back. Jensen’s attempts to un-bury himself get him an unwilling grunt from behind, a smack of Jared’s lips. That hand cups tighter around his breast and Jensen gives up.

Jared kisses him again; different. Smooth, wet. Lips and tongue, deep, and his hand keeps kneading, and his hips circle awake.

Jensen slurs, painedly, “He said no kisses,” but Jared just cups his cheek and sucks on his tongue a little while longer.

~

“You are bringing us back, like—fifty years with this kind of talk…”

Jensen whines, “I know,” but the way Alex keeps sucking at his mouth tells him he can’t be _too_ indignant.

They can scent what Jared has to reside to within his banishment to the downstairs, but with Alex’s heat cresting like it does, Jensen doesn’t have another choice. At least not tonight.

Their mateship might not mean jackshit in front of the so-called law, but their bodies and minds sure never got that memo.

Jensen’s hand rides Alex’s ass all the way down to the first joint of his thumb and Alex has come apart on it too many times to count tonight already and yet his heat won’t let up. Of course not. Why would it, with a virile Alpha around? Jensen groans; rubs their faces together. Alex’s arm shudders with exhaustion. His fist curls deep inside of Jensen.

“So close,” whimpers Alex; quiet, just between the two of them. “Make me come, baby, make me… Oh, fuck—!”

With Jared’s scent in the sheets, it’s—different. Deeper, somehow. Alex nurses on every spot Jared had laid his claim upon, laps at every bruise, every bite. Sinks his own over them until Jensen has to beg him to stop, please give him a break. Alex eats him out, instead. Sucks and drinks and there can’t be any of Jared’s come left, it just _can’t_ , but every time Alex comes up for kisses, there it is. That now-familiar tang, sharp and full and Jensen sighs for it, and Alex’s cunt draws tight around his fingers like he has any idea. Like they’re one and the same. Two sides of a coin, connected.

“It really doesn’t,” promises Jensen, cooing sweet. “You’d love it. Feels so fucking good, I swear.”

Alex keeps muttering, “No,” but his eyes are closed, and Jensen punches up into him nearly as hard as Jared had done it to him, hours ago, and he takes it so well. Is sweaty and squirming and fever-pink, everywhere, but still denies. Too much—Jensen knows, remembers. He has no clue how Jared hasn’t gotten up yet. How he hasn’t broken down the door, the house, whatever is in his way.

Half-slumber. The stuffy air in the small room, the drag of Alex’s hands. The sweetness of Alex’s breath, the scratch of his stubble. It’s like burning from the inside. A smolder, a distant call.

Again, sleep-slurred, “You gon’ leave me?” and Jensen sighs, of course,

“No,”

and Alex hums, stirs. Bare, beard burn. “A lawyer. Big shot.”

“Fuck that.”

“He’s not gonna leave, Jen.”

“So we’ll kick him out. Drop him off on a clearing like a mutt.” Jensen rolls over, smiles. Brushes Alex’s hair out of his eyes for him, kisses the tattoo on that shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex’s eyes won’t focus right. So much like Jensen, in many ways. Years together do that to you. The bond. Hunting together, learning. Whenever Alex moves, it’s like Jensen’s limbs must go right along.

Alex blinks, frowns. Reaches for Jensen’s hand but only gets his arm.

Murmurs, small: “You love him.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Soul-bound? ’S that what they call it?”

“Sleep, idiot. You’re babbling.”

“He _claimed_ you,” continues Alex, slurred with fever, and Jensen hurts, but he doesn’t push him off. Doesn’t dismiss. “You’re his. I can _feel_ it.”

Again, “Sleep,” and, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow, all right? C’mon, you’re barely making any sense. _Sleep_ ,” and Alex fights the idea for another while before he, in the end, succumbs.

Jensen doesn’t dream that night.

~

Alex is a mess. Slick and sweat, unsteady legs. Jared sits straight in his makeshift bed when Jensen drags the two of them down the stairs—and he stares, but he doesn’t get up. Doesn’t come close.

Jensen sends a snarl for good measure before he shoulders the door open.

The stream. Alex’s skin. The weight of that head against Jensen’s shoulder, the blind grabble for—his shirt, hair, hands.

Maybe they’re taking too long because Jared eventually comes over to drop a towel, a fresh change of clothes. Unasked, and Jensen wished: unwanted.

Jared keeps a more than polite distance. “Should I set up some tea for you?”

“No,” uttered, flushed; busy. “You’ll just set the damn house on fire.”

“I watched you do it plenty of times yesterday. I can do it.”

Jensen sends him away with a _fine, whatever_. Alex shivers like a child, a foal.

They’re used to the heats, but this is different. Secluded when they hit, and Jensen stays home from his nurse duties and Alex calls off his shifts at the orphanage and they cower, together, stupid with lack of food and water and sunk into each other. And it hadn’t been perfect, but it had been enough.

That has been taken from them, now. Jensen knows. They both do.

Back inside, Jared gets up from his chair, and Jensen doesn’t stop him.

Doesn’t tell the Alpha _no_ when he slowly but surely takes Alex’s weight off him to get him over to the table for him, when those hands are on Alex and _they’re not Jensen’s_ and something in Jensen curls and cramps, and he’s speechless with it. Powerless.

“Sit,” says Jared, and, “Drink,” like this is his house. Like it’s all decided.

And Jensen sits. And he drinks his tea.

Jared holds Alex’s cup for him, and he holds Alex’s head, too. Dark-blond hair tangles between his fingers and he coos, “There you go,” and Alex swallows weakly, but he does. Only a small spill. Jared wipes that off, away.

The fat, expensive-looking watch on that wrist. The nearly-healed cuts from Jensen’s fights—Alpha recovery. Efficient. Brilliant. The immaculate haircut, handsome despite the lack of a comb.

“Jensen?” and Jensen startles, comes back into reality. “Hold him, would you? You wanna lay him out? _Should_ he be horizontal? I don’t know,” and Jensen thinks, Jared can’t be much older than them. Unmated despite his obvious pedigree. Out of law school and the first thing he does is hike guideless through mountains barely anyone sets foot in? Heedless. Spoiled. A pup himself.

And yet. And _yet_.

Jared’s bed, just because they don’t want to make Alex take the stairs over and over. And the poor thing gasps, frowns for the scent, the warmth of it; reaches for Jensen and moans when Jensen gives in and kisses him, once, and Jensen flushes head to toe, pulls off and away, because—Jared.

Jared; kneeling, staring. One hand on Jensen’s leg, clamped tight.

“What am I supposed to do?” says Jared, breathes, and Jensen—doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

Jensen twists so he can kiss Jared on the mouth. Alex keeps reaching, pulling—Jensen’s shirt, his necklace. Jared growls and brings his hand to the back of Jensen’s neck, rakes through his hair before he grabs it, holds it.

A whimper (not him).

“I can fuck you right here or I can drag you upstairs. Your call.”

Jensen growls, “Fucking _dog_ ,” and gets his tit smacked, gasps sharp for it. Raises his ass off his calves just enough for Jared to yank his pants down, to get him just naked enough. Jensen’s eyes water with how wet he is. With how much wetter he knows he’s gonna be as soon as Jared’s back inside of him.

Alex startles for the push, the fall; Jensen catches himself on his elbows, nearly mouth-to-mouth. Snarls hard and then not, once Jared’s on him and beds himself in one, endless push—hands on his hips like a vice, the growl of him a wall behind Jensen that pushes him forward, against Alex.

Jared sneers, “Tell him,” and rams into him hard enough to jostle him into Alex. “Tell him how much you fucking _love_ this cock.”

Except that Jensen has no breath left to say anything. That Alex and him gulp the same air back and forth and don’t breathe at all, and Alex’s eyes are wide and dark, and it’s—Lords, _Lords_ , he can’t.

“Kiss him,” and Jensen can do _that_. “You taste that, Alex? Taste me, sweet thing?” Alex whimpers, and Jared grunts. Leans in and pants, “Yeah, _yeah_ ,” and pushes Jensen’s face down harder, keeps them close. “Fuck him. Do it, Jensen. Let me see you fuck your pretty little bitch for me.”

Blind grabs for clothes; Alex shimmies on his own, helps. Opens his legs wide and Jensen yelps because Jared bites him again, growls so low through his teeth that it’s vibrating all the way into his guts.

Hears, “That’s it,” and, “That’s what you two get up to out here, huh?” and Alex whimpers desperately for three fingers at once to the hilt, digging _up_.

Jensen sobs, lost—buried against Alex’s breast, the cling of his arms with Jared’s weight slamming into him from behind, carving him out deep. Alex snatches up so so tight around his hand like it’s all brand-new, like he can’t help it; and he moans for it, too, unabashed and coarse as he moves against Jensen, with him.

Jared purrs, “I’m about to knot your bitch, Alex,” and both Alex’s and Jensen’s breath hitches for that, but it’s Alex who tears up for real.

And the Alpha didn’t lie, and Alex’s cunt draws up tight when it happens, like Jared’s inside _him_. A deep, shaking orgasm sends Alex’s legs cramping and Jared growls happy. Holds one of those legs down and that’s a first touch, and Jensen is gonna end him. He will.

“Get up. Get fucking _up_ , bitch. Let’s show him. Show your precious boy what you look like.”

Jensen whines for _no_ , but to no avail.

“Tell him how it feels,” slurred against Jensen’s neck, his ear. One of Jared’s huge hands folds his leg out and away, spreads him where they’re connected—tense, too-much, and Alex looks horrified, drowning. Jared’s front is solid against Jensen’s back and he squirms, but there’s nowhere to go. “So tight on me,” goads the Alpha. As he circles his hips, his knot churns visibly. “Tell him, baby.”

Jensen manages, “So deep,” and gets his ear kissed for it, his neck sucked. Feels fingers on his taint and catches a glimpse of Alex, sitting up, and, “No,” and, “I can’t, _babe_ ,” but his mate is already touching. Already skims his fingers around the taut stretch of his asshole and Jared growls in appreciation, goads about _yeah_ and _come on_ and Alex’s face twists before he leans in, truly _in_ , and Jensen feels that tongue lapping right across his taint and the clench of his hole and he sobs for it, he does.

Jared’s unsteady, bone-deep, “ _Fuck_ ,” rattles through him, zig-zags around the bolts of pleasure, pure bliss. Jared grinds up and Alex sucks at what he can reach while Jared holds Jensen down, makes him take it. Them. Trembling, milking.

Alex raw-mumbles: “Your… Fuck, your _stomach_ ,” and Jensen whimpers as Jared presses his hand over the bulge of it in emphasis. Punches his cock against his palm from the inside, makes Jensen feel it—every vein, every curve and jolt, every throb. Fills him so deep, so plenty, that it’ll be a mess when he pulls out. Will make Alex clean it off, slurp it out of him; something, he knows.

Jensen gets his wrist snatched and the wet suction around his hand is puzzling until Jared’s moan curls _right around it_ , and Jensen gasps, betrayed; can’t plug it out, isn’t let off.

“Tastes so fucking good,” and Alex’s scent on Jared’s breath smells—so wrong, so—bittersweet and perfect, dirty, it’s—he can’t.

“ _Babe_ ,” and there’s Alex, sweet Alex, summoned right away. Leans up and in and licks right into Jensen’s mouth, huffs all hot and wet. Jensen gets one hand into that soft-soft hair, tugs just tender enough that Alex cringes, moans soft against Jensen’s tongue.

Stumbling, pained, “I—I want it. I _want_ him,” and Jared roars so loud Jensen’s heart skips, and Jared’s cock pulses so hard Jensen feels punched with it. Alex keeps babbling, grabs at Jensen, Jensen’s skin, Jensen’s face—like Jensen can help him, can make it better. He always could, before.

“I promise,” whispers low, whispers hot. “I promise, Jen, I—the three of us, nobody’s gonna come between that. Nobody, ever. I’ll make sure, keep y’all safe, I’ll. You know I will,” and Jensen trembles, empty. Jared’s hand around his throat (again, still) squeezes, encourages. Alex’s breath and tears, the wobble of his mouth, his lip. Jensen can’t even close his eyes. There’s nothing.

As soon as his knot begins to go down, Jared begins to move. Begins to push Jensen off to climb over to Alex, and Jensen can’t have it. He won’t.

He leaps, half-covers his mate. Gets one of those legs and hooks it over his arm and babbles, “Okay? Okay?” and Alex nods, starstruck, his sole focus in Jensen’s eyes, Jensen’s face.

A thumb to Jensen’s brow, and it’s like—

a shadow, casting itself.

Jared, kneeling in.

Bare again, and what point did _that_ happen, but he’s right there, broad and dangerous with his animal-eyes where Jensen is holding Alex open for him, where he already smears the sore-looking head of his cock across—where Alex needs him, despite everything. Where Alex visibly tenses and he gasps, and Jensen shushes but Jared manages it then, finally. Breaches with a low sigh and a steady push, too much, but Alex doesn’t fight. Barely even squirms.

Lets Jared paw his other thigh open as well, fit himself. Grabs Jensen’s arm and stares down his body, like he can see. To his horror, Jensen _does_.

“Oh, sweet _thing_ ,” coos Jared, and he might be sliding right home into Alex’s pussy right now, stretches out that tender, second mouth, claims that one as well. Alex whines, slaps his available hand across Jared’s wrist, his arm. A hold, a plea—something. White knuckles. Jared scoots closer. Another couple of inches.

Jared kneels hunched and his hair hangs into his eyes like that. Vacant, pussy-drunk—half-open mouth, flushed. He’s looking straight into Alex’s face now, watches him. Moves, waits. Does it again.

“Even wetter than _he_ was,” he informs, fascinated, and Alex cringes beautifully. Hiccups his breath, and Jensen kisses his ear, his temple. Gets that mouth again, finally. Alex’s tongue. Alex’s moan, once Jared pumps into him slow, controlled. Pacing himself, Jensen realizes. Letting Alex breathe. Alex’s next sound has Jensen’s cunt seizing up around a first trickle of Jared’s come. He tenses, curls closer, deeper. “Gimme that leg, beautiful. There you go. Good boy.”

The push of four of Jared’s fingers isn’t as much of a surprise as it is embarrassing.

Gods, he’s _drenched_.

Jared informs, matter-of-fact, “I’d have you sit on his face if he wasn’t so wasted,” and Jensen gasps for that; gasps harder for the sudden pull-out of that hand, the ruthless slap to his ass. It pushes back in, plugs him good. His eyes roll; Alex tugs at him, begs for more kisses. Jensen gives him that. Jared hums all pleased, moves shallow.

Alex puppy-whimpers once the pace picks up. When Jared’s cock punches him soft where Jensen’s hands never quite reached. He pants against Jensen’s teeth and Jensen side-eyes Jared’s hand, how it skims over the sore peaks of Alex’s tits like they’re so precious, like he doesn’t know how to work them just yet. Jared is staring—at them, at Alex’s tattoos. Looks at Jensen once Jensen looks up at him. Clear and black. He doesn’t smile but neither does he leer.

It’s an awkward shuffle, but Jared makes it work—down on his elbow, one arm tucked so he can keep fingering Jensen, close enough that he can nurse on Jensen’s mouth, can suck on his throat. His hips work incessantly, carefully, while Alex undulates, moans for it. Tender. Smaller than Jensen, and Jared is just—big.

“Think you can get your arm in there once I’m done with him?” dark and conspiring and Alex groans and Jensen just—flushes, and. Wants. He wants. All of it. Both of them.

“No,” and, “I’m so—fucking _full_ , please,” and Jared coos for that, for the Omega’s bravery and/or ability to speak with a cock bumping him fat inside.

“What happened, hm? So feisty just a minute ago. But don’t worry, you’ll take that knot. Stop whining. C’mere. Hey. Come _here_.”

Jensen wants to stop the kiss. Wants to slap Jared’s forehead and kick his teeth in but he just watches, instead. How that big mouth seals over Alex’s and how Alex cranes his neck for it, welcomes it. How his lashes flutter and Jensen chases it with his own mouth, both of them. Laps after the gob of spit Jared sinks over Alex’s tongue just because he can, a retaliation of yesterday, maybe; something. It doesn’t matter.

“I don’t care. I’ll fucking make it work,” and that’s a steady rut, that beard buried sweet between Jensen’s and Alex’s faces, marking both of them. “Nobody. Nothing. All of it. I will,” and his further thoughts dissolve. There is no air for them to hang in.

Alex complains when Jared folds him in the middle, gets his ass off the makeshift mattress to pound into him hard and long. Sopping wet and Jensen writhes back on Jared’s hand, nuzzles and nips what he can reach of Alex’s face, Alex’s shoulder.

Babbled, “Baby,” and, “Sweet baby,” and Alex whimpers, half-pushes at Jared. He isn’t let up. “Come on it—yeah, there you go… Let it go, give it up for me, let me in, let me have it…!”

Alex yelps—for the bone-deep shiver, the catch of Jared’s knot. No distinction; Jensen knows. Falls right along, spirals away. The scent is—incapacitating. The thick cream of Jared’s come finally pulsing into the sugary slick of Alex’s insides and Alex sobs, overwhelmed. Let’s just run away, somewhere nobody will find us. Just us.

Jensen doesn’t realize how tightly he is clinging to his mate until Jared pushes between them, nudges his mouth to Jensen’s.

“I don’t want to freak you out, but. I think he’s passed out.”

Jensen groans, “Lords,” but his voice doesn’t even sound like himself. Alex is limp and soft but he’s breathing, at least. It will have to do.

“I’d give him space, but, uh. Not happening. Not for another five minutes.”

“Dog,” grumbles Jensen and gets a slap to his ass, a scoff.

“Move over so I don’t suffocate him.”

~

Jared tosses the pills on the table. Jensen gives him a look but is ignored. “You don’t wanna do the shots, that’s fine. But I’m not letting you ingest this, basically, poison. That’s just not happening.” Just as firm, an afterthought: “I’ll get you better ones.”

The arguing hasn’t stopped for the past few days. Jensen is too tired to keep it up.

Jared’s sandcastles. Some of them are more realistic than others. They all sound too good to be true. Something about Jared’s tone though, the utter sincerity he whips his plans out for them, is… Jensen hates that it makes him want to believe him.

Unheard of but not impossible, he said. If you own the land, we can just add that to the contract. Some O’s families like to keep their heirlooms on their sides; ain’t too abstract at all, really, I feel like you’re overcomplicating things, it’s not too big of a deal.

Alex, wringing his hands. Alex, demanding even more safeguards than Jensen. Proud and insistent and Jensen remembers how it had been, way back. How far they’ve come, together.

The three of them in bed, at night. A bundle of arms and legs and Jared huffing, endearing; drowning. Constant touching and low mumbles in the dark, promises. Jared’s non-rut, non-cruel noises—chuckles and sighs. The confident press of his hands, his body, his cock.

As impatient as Jensen is to finally see the guy out of the door, as impossible that very thing suddenly seems once it happens. Once Jared has shouldered Alex’s old backpack and he finds Jensen’s eyes, and he keeps looking. Like he’s saying something and Jensen’s job is to pick that up.

Jensen hesitates. He then frowns, nudges at the Alpha’s arm. “C’mon, man. We ain’t going anywhere.”

“You realize the more often you repeat that the more I’m doubting it, right?”

Jensen pulls him in for a last kiss. Pats that cheek for good measure, smoothes the still-damp wrinkles of Jared’s shirt. It’s warm out, again. Still. “C’mon. Fuck off before he wakes up and remembers how he wanted to deal with your sorry ass.”

“Are you threatening me with a good time?”

“Stop dicking around,” and Jared smiles as he gets shoved outside, play-tumbles but straightens then, nods. Jensen leans against the doorframe, crosses his arms. He smiles as well. “Have fun with that paperwork, I guess.”

“I will,” and then, without standing straighter or changing much about how he holds himself, Jared seems more sober, more sincere.

Softer, too, in a way, and Jensen squeezes his arms tighter as not to reach out, pull Jared back in. Make Alex get up, talk Jared into staying just one more day, c’mon, they can’t be missing you _that_ badly.

“I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

And then he leaves. Two bottles of water, a compass. Three hours if you keep walking steady; two and a half, maybe, with the length of those legs. Jensen will have to ask.

Mid-morning. The sun sits high and crawls even higher. Warm, green. The breeze dances through the growing corn. Jensen looks after him until Jared disappears, until the woods swallow him up. He stands outside just a little longer.


End file.
